MiniFill Series
by xXFissshBonesssXx
Summary: A series of one-shots. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request.
1. Smirk

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Smirk_

Pairing: Bruce/Tony

Warnings: Rated for Mature situations!

* * *

Tony looked best like this, Bruce thought privately. The mile-a-minute mouth that so loved to snark and snap was for once in the younger man's life hung open, unhinged at the jaw, a soundless void currently sucking in great gulps of air. Tony's sharp eyes were unfocused. His eyes were liquid obsidian in the dark, pupils blown wide with pleasure, unable to focus or track the motion of his partner as Bruce pushed further into him. One of Tony's hands clenched and unclenched against the ropes binding him artfully over the edge of the bed. His entire body was stretched taut and his legs were spread full wide to allow for Bruce to lean into the space between them with purposefully agonizing slowness.

The good doctor smiled where Tony couldn't see as he let one of his hands slip beneath them to the tiny band pulled tight at the base of Tony's cock.

Tony jolted beneath him, a gasp hitching in his throat, as Bruce pulled his hand over Tony a single time.

Every bit of him _burned_. The way his body was pulled out and over was nothing strange or new, but having Bruce behind him with 100% control of what was happening certainly was. His hands were everywhere Tony wanted them to be but somehow Bruce managed to give him just enough friction to leave him in a desperate state of wanting without satisfying, like he had been dragging just his fingertips over an itch he so needed a scratch for all afternoon. He kept the touches deliberately slow, knowing that anything more than the sweet slow burn of his touch would be enough to bring Tony over the edge.

Or it would have been, if not for the cock ring.

"_Jesus_," Tony breathed, ragged.

The older man's soft laughter followed Tony's wrecked admission and Bruce put his hands to work pressing into the most sensitive parts of his partner's body. His fingers worked over the edges of Tony's hips, canting him at an angle which pressed him directly against Tony's hot spot. He could feel the twitch of Tony's cock from the way his entire body jumped. Before it could be too much Bruce let go and Tony dropped an inch against the bed sheets. He let out another slow moan.

"Sounds good," Bruce murmured.

"So good," Tony agreed from where his face was pressed into the sheets.

Bruce smiled and dragged his hand back up along his partner's length, then snapped his hips forward with purpose, twice.

He couldn't help his smirk at Tony's desperate mewl.


	2. Trust

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Trust_

Pairing: Steve/Thor

Warnings: Rated for Mature situations!

* * *

They had started off slow. Steve had been a little uncertain about being in a relationship with another man but Thor's approach was not to treat him as a maiden and the awkwardness wore off at the end of the first week. It had taken them a month to get past kissing and holding hands, three months to get below each other's belts, all prompted by Thor and accepted over time by Steve. It was no different when they finally chose to lay together. They were incredibly careful about the entire affair, so careful in fact that they carefully fell out of a state of being able to enjoy the occasion on their first attempt. But Steve was adamant, now that they'd decided to do the deed, to get around to it. The second go was spectacular.

Natasha congratulated them the next morning, hushing Clint's complaints about traumatizing noises in the night. Tony offered everyone earplugs the next week.

Together they found a working pattern that they tried to keep to themselves (their teammates shared a lot with them but there was no reason to share this). It was at this happy point that Steve stumbled (entirely by accident) upon something bizarre.

It should have been a clue that his lover was a god and was thusly proportionately endowed. Steve's a bit oblivious, though, even he knows it. So when he came across an email link and accidentally clicked the wrong 'X', meaning to close the window, he found himself accosted by the image of an arm disappearing into the underside of a woman.

He didn't feel disconcerted by the sight of a woman. She was lovely, and this was America, where you could choose to be in the pornography industry if you wanted to.

He was a bit concerned at the way all his blood left his brain and gave him the quickest accidental erection he had ever experienced.

Since Thor had initiated all their exploratory acts thus far it was understandable that he was surprised at Steve's suggestion about six days later. There was a little miscommunication about who was sticking their fist where, but after Steve spelled it out (wearing a most flattering and endearing shade of beet red) Thor's smile could have stopped crime.

In between the sheets later that afternoon (one of them too excited by the prospect to wait 'till dark, the other too aroused by the thought of it to wait at all) Steve thought he would be second-guess himself. But the thunderer's kisses against the hard line of his jaw and the warm hands pressing his body pliant beneath them were a comfort. They tussled in familiar territory, kisses quick like sparks and hips rolling together. The hard line of Thor's cock at Steve's thigh abruptly reminded him of their experimental purpose and he let Thor guide him to lay back in the sheets. They was some discussion about whether he should be on his back or his front and eventually he was on all fours with his ass open in the air. Thor smiled indulgently and Steve found himself pleasantly surprised by his partner's tongue. He fought against grinding back against the slippery invasion, his body buzzing with anticipation. Thor's tongue stretched him little but it was warm and stroked deftly at his entrance. When Thor drew back to start with his fingers, Steve felt his breath catch. He stared at the pillows as Thor worked in a familiar finger, then another. Three was as many as they'd ever needed, Thor had big fingers. The thought caught up with Steve right as Thor went for a fourth, and he didn't catch the whine of discomfort before it jumped from his throat.

Thor paused and drew back his hand. Worried that he was going to withdraw completely, Steve turned over to tell Thor to continue, and was surprised when the thunderer used his momentum to turn him onto his back entirely. They shared a moment's gaze as Thor crawled up further into the space between his partner's thighs, still three digits deep in Steve.

"Do you trust me?" Thor asked with a warm smile.

"Yes." Steve tried to prop himself up on his elbows when two things happened at once. Thor added the fourth finger in again, causing a fresh burn at his backside. He also dropped his jaw and licked a slow wet stripe up the length of Steve's cock.

The resulting clash of agony and pleasure caused Steve's arms to fail him and he hit the pillows with an undecided sigh of agony.

Thor continued to lap at him as he scissored his fingers, stretching him slowly. Steve rolled his hips and the stretching eased. The two worked slowly, slowly, until Thor's fingers fit in. The tip of Steve's length was dripping from Thor's attention.

The golden god sat up a bit so he could catch his partner's eye. Steve sat up a little as well, panting and prettily flushed. Thor's tongue swept his lips quick at the sight. He tilted his head, eyes on Steve, as he pressed forward with his wrist and lowered his open mouth down over Steve's cock.

Steve stopped breathing.

Thor understood the unspoken need to go slowly, until Steve was accustomed to the girth of his entire fist, but his own cock wept heartily against the bed sheets at the sight of Steve stretched to his limit. The Captain's body was wracked by a deep shudder as Thor took him to the base, at the same time pressing in his hand as far as Steve's body was willing to take. Long planes of muscle jumped and fell with the ruin of Steve's uneven breathing. His thighs were hot at Thor's shoulders where he knelt between them. The mortal opened his eyes and Thor slipped up off him, lips smacking wetly when he pulled off. The two shared a silent look before Thor pulled back his hand inside Steve.

The Captain, to his credit, lasted a whole four minutes before losing himself to Thor's short thrusts.


	3. Silk

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Silk_

Pairing: Clint/Steve

Warnings: Rated for Mature situations!

* * *

Despite all appearances to the contrary Tony Stark was not a gossip.

He didn't like to spread rumors, hated to stir up the dirt as it were. Tony was a practical man. Gossip wasn't at all practical.

He just happened to be in the wrong places at every opportune moment.

"Yeah, _fuck_ that's good."

Like right now.

"God. Just, just gimmie a minute."

"You got plenty of time already, Princess. Now open up and stick out your tongue."

He wasn't sure how he'd missed them when he came in. They hadn't exactly been discreet. Being an Avenger had improved Tony's response time, his attention to detail in terms of mechanics, and his intuition for anticipating attacks.

"Jesus Christ. You were _made_ to suck my cock, Rogers."

His sense of self-preservation seemed to still be lacking.

A low groan echoed from around the corner where two of his teammates were apparently engaged in some form of oral sex, if Barton's last admission had been anything to go by. Tony tried counting the tiles on the wall to ignore the sounds from behind him. He estimated the exact force necessary to bash his head in on the laundry room wall before Steve gave another sinful moan around Clint's cock.

"'The hell did you learn how to blow so damn good?"

There was a thump, like Clint had doubled over to brace himself against the wall with one arm. Tony did not imagine that his other hand was fisted in Steve's hair and was yanking his mouth off before he was sucked straight to euphoria.

Definitely not imagining.

"Never woulda picked you for such a cockslut, Cap. If you want it so bad get out of those jeans and put your hands up on that wall."

There was a quick rustling. Tony looked around him for a spare towel, a shirt, anything to stuff his ears with. His hands grabbed the first piece of cloth in the dark and he threw his head under it.

The silk shirt did little to stifle the aching whine Steve made when he was impaled, or the endless string of filthy goading coming from Clint.


	4. Obsession

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Obsession_

Pairing: Loki/Natasha

Warnings: Rated for Mature situations!

* * *

The Widow is beautiful.

Loki has seen it from afar. Now he sees it up close, personally, as Natasha presses a dagger down against the column of his throat.

"You're very brave or very stupid not to have killed me yet," Loki warns. He leers up at an angle meant to provoke. The Widow bites, jabbing with her unoccupied hand, a short burst of electricity into his side. He arches under her, eyes blown a moment in agony.

"You're pushing it."

Loki laughs.

"If I were pushing it you'd do more than just tickle me."

She jabs him twice in the same spot. This time he cries out with the pain.

Her eyes are cold when he can focus again.

They are alone on the battlefield. Loki does not mind the absence of his brother. His current situation would only confirm Thor's suspicions, that Loki is too weak even to battle a Midgard warrior maiden armed only with his magic and daggers. But the absence of the others allows Loki to lay his full attention to the matter of the knife at his neck. He does not have to shield his pride.

Green eyes brim with approval. The look startles the Widow, though she shows only a hint of surprise at the corner of her mouth.

The knife will break his skin soon.

"You have won," Loki says, barely moving his lips though they split in a grin, "Is there no prize you would seek of me?"

The Widow leans over him. She is tiny and yet she manages to block out every bit of the sun shining down through the snow falling silently around them. Her eyes catch his and they stare. They continue to stare when Loki feels his belt being flung out from around him and tossed into the snow. Still the Widow holds his gaze. Though the knife is a fine edge at his throat, finer is the piercing stare with which Loki finds himself pinned.

He does not remember feeling aroused. He is not sure what trickery she employed to get them out of enough clothing to align them.

She slams down without ever breaking their stare.

Loki is privy to the gentle flutter at her throat, the only hint of her bottled gasp of pleasure.

He is a fool to think that is the most opportune moment to flip them.

Natasha lets him shove them from the ground, lets him wind his hand lightning-quick around the wrist with the blade and wrench it from him. She lets him and he knows it because once she's on her back her ankles swing about and lock behind him and she draws down him to the hilt. The sudden heat is like a punch. Loki's grip falters and the knife bites into his throat.

"Now you're pushing it," Natasha says, calm like Loki isn't buried entirely inside of her.

The demi-god snarls and snaps his hips. The Widow flexes beneath him, lets him plunge in twice, and then she tears at his face with her fingernails. Loki howls like a wounded animal as she flips them. He is on his back and she is on her knees.

The blade is back at his throat and her eyes are pinning him to the snow.

Emerald is awash with fury. The fine pale planes of Loki's face are pulled back in a terrible rage.

Natasha fixes him with her eyes and slides down, slowly.

She watches the rage war with pleasure across Loki's face as she fucks him. There's a fleck of foam at the edge of his lip and his cheeks are strained an ugly white-red. His black mane is undone in the snow, tendrils of black spread out against the sheer white. His entire body shudders under her as she gives him a taste of friction, sliding and wet. She can see his breath as he pants into the air.

Her eyes never leave his.

The Widow is beautiful, Loki thinks as she rides him. She will be the last to die when he kills them all.


	5. Apology & Silvertongue

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Apology_

Pairing: Fury/Coulson

Warnings: Rated for Mature situations!

* * *

"It was supposed to be quick."

"It was. In a way."

"It was routine," Fury amends. "In and out, you weren't even supposed to be in the area."

"I was in the area."

The doctors told them nothing serious, nothing life threatening. Having his best man out of commission on bed rest and limited mobility for three weeks was something pretty damn serious to Nick Fury.

"I'll be off of bed rest in two weeks," Coulson says. "Agent Hill can get me a Starkpad and a Laptop. You won't even know I'm gone."

"I'll know."

The younger man tilts his head and shifts his covers. Fury raises an eyebrow.

"They said I couldn't get out of bed," Coulson clarifies, a glint to his eyes. "They never said you couldn't get in here with me."

Unflappable, even with an IV in him.

Later, when they're divested of their pants and shine with sweat, short of breath, Fury mumbles something against his subordinate's collarbone. There's a hum of content and Fury doesn't bother making himself better heard. It's as much of an apology as anyone's ever got out of Nick Fury. Coulson smiles with this private knowledge and enjoys the weight against his side.

* * *

_Silvertongue_

Pairing: Loki/Sif

Warnings: None!

* * *

The two of them are taking a day of relaxation after long hours spent training together in the halls of Asgard. His brother has taken his leave of them, as have their other friends. Youth clings yet to their skin like the sweat of the last six bouts and the smiles their friends and family give as they abandon the training grounds are annoyingly knowing.

Loki does not mind them. Sif finds them inappropriate, especially when they are completely unfounded.

She and Loki would never rut in such an open place.

"You always let them rile you, love," Loki teases as he sheds his cloak and one of the belts at his waist. It joins the other weapons scattered on the floor. Sif looses the broadsword sheathed at her side and sets it down as the young Prince spreads his cloak over a small hill of straw.

"Their sly smile are suggestions," she protests as he holds out a hand seeking hers, "They suspect we shall fall out of our clothes and into each other the moment they away."

Loki laughs like bells rung out of order.

"Cad!" Sif's cheeks flush indignantly and she snatches her hand away; Loki sits quickly and entreats her forgiveness.

"Please! Lady Sif," Loki says once he has bottled his bubbling mirth, "I only laugh at the notion, not the proposed act, for how preposterous it is. Can you imagine us hidden among the hay with naught but the skin on our bones?" His snickers interrupt him a moment. "I meant no offense. Cool your anger and keep your boots on, but join me here."

They lay back in the hay a while against Loki's cloak. Sif's knees fit between Loki's. Her brow dipped and Loki nodded to meet it with his own. They shared a secret smile between just the two of them and met at the nose, then the lips.

"Truly, we would have to be driven to madness with passion before we chose to lie in such a place," Loki murmured. Sif snorted into his mouth and Loki drew back. "You don't think so?"

"I would never lift my skirt here," she hissed, as though it were some great secret, "how crude do you think me?"

"I think you a Lady, Sif," Loki said appeasingly, "and a Warrior. You are no harlot, of course you would not lift your skirt in the training grounds." He gave a thoughtful pause, then added, "Unless you aimed to honorably distract an opponent. I imagine it would be incredibly effective-"

She grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into the hay.


	6. Surrender

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request. _

* * *

_Surrender_

Pairing: Natasha/Clint

Warnings: Mentions of torture.

* * *

Clint swallowed. It was nine O'clock in London.

Seventeen seconds.

Another drop of water.

That was probably coming up on sixty-thousand drops, over the course of seventy hours, only three of which he had spent unconscious and blissfully unaware. _Just let sleep take you,_ a voice begged in the back of his mind. _Just shut your eyes._

His eyes were shut.

Another drop.

Clint's eyes snapped open and he started his count again.

The room had been dark when he'd been thrown inside, followed by no less than six men of Thor's bulk, and it remained dark when they left him tied down to a chair at the wrists and ankles and waist. The last sound he had memory of other than the steady monotony of dripping water had been a heavy click when the lock shut.

His breathing hitched at the memory uncoiled and a drop of water hit his nose.

He'd messed up his count.

That made an odd 47 times of missing counts. That made for somewhere in the neighborhood of nearly 200 misplaced seconds, which was around three minutes, which was around the time it took to scale any building for a clear vantage point in the city.

The water dribbled down over his brow and he blinked it out of his eyes.

He must look as though he had been sobbing for days.

The water drips, Clint starts his count.

Seventeen seconds, another drop.

It is nine O'five in London.

He predicts that around midnight London time he will forget everything about counting and start giving up things he really rather shouldn't.

He makes a mental note to bite through his tongue at eleven-thirty London time.

Another drop.

Clint swallows. The sound of falling water made him thirsty twenty hours ago.

He is in a little black box of a room with no food, not enough water, with no light source and soundproofing. _There is something in the water,_ he thinks. The pain of being tied down to the chair dimmed at twelve hours and stopped completely at thirty-two. All the pain stopped at fifty-seven hours.

Seventeen seconds, a dribble.

The phantom itch at his neck where it's damp comes back.

Seventeen seconds, a drop.

It is nine-thirty in London, and Natasha has not come.

_If she isn't here in an hour, I'll do it,_ Clint thinks with the last of his resolution as he is dribbled on.

Seventeen seconds, a dribble.

_If she isn't here in an hour, I'll do it._

A drop.

Clint forces himself not to swallow.

_I'll do it. I'm going to do it._

A dribble.

It is nine-forty-five in London. Clint blinks the water out of his eyes and lets his head fall back as much as he can manage with a wordless cry.

A drop.

* * *

The door bursts open.

It is midnight in London.


	7. Toast

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request._

* * *

_Toaster_

Pairing: None

Warnings: Accidental character death

* * *

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose.

Patience. He was calling on the very last of his patience to not murder the sobbing, snivelling, dripping, boneless piles of mortal waste currently parading about in diapers and tiny T-shirts.

Bruce gurgled incomprehensibly at his ankles and knocked his skull into Loki's boot and promptly began to wail about it. Natasha was chewing determinedly at his other boot at the heel. Clint had climbed up the back of his coat and onto his shoulders and wailed shrilly every time he tried to extract the tiny terror from his perch. Thor was losing on purpose at a game of tug-of-war with Steve, who had lost the first four times and whose chubby cheeks were flushed red with disappointment, and Stark was sitting in the middle of what used to be the television.

This was _not_ how the second Prince of Asgard had meant to spend his bi-annual visit to his least favorite brother.

His love for children had been nearly exhausted by this point. The Avengers had been impossible brats, clambering all over his person without his permission, chewing at every available surface despite what toxic or foreign substances might have been covering it, crying for no discernable reason, shitting themselves more than twice in a single hour, and being the most exhausting and trying trial Loki had ever in all his long centuries of life endured. And Loki had lived a god-damn-long-time.

Loki was leaning down to heal Bruce's forehead when the kitchen erupted in debris and Dr. Doom stepped into the mansion.

"Ah-ha!" the mechanized voice announced, "Avengers! Prepare to meet your DOOM-"

There was a flash of blue.

Loki had had _enough._

"Children," Loki said in his most authoritative mommy voice, suddenly commanding the attention of everyone in the room, "What is this?"

He held up the shiny silver device that had, until a moment ago, been Dr. Doom.

Stark held up a hand.

"Toaster."

"That's _right_," Loki cooed, giving the tiny billionaire a pat on the head and ignoring the way it made the tiny tot grin stupidly, "Does anyone know what it does?"

"Toast!" Thor shouted (squeaked), "Toast! Toast!"

"Yes, Thor," Loki agreed, "It makes toast." He reached over obligingly when Thor tilted his own head for a congratulatory pat. "Can anyone tell me how it works?"

"...I dunno," Clint muttered sullenly as he clung to Loki's hair.

"Me either," Natasha enunciated, though she took to eyeing the silver device with a suspicious glare.

"I cad," Tony said smugly.

"_'Can'_," Loki stressed before setting Dr. Doom-the-Toaster down in front of him. "If you know, then show the others. Start at the beginning."

"Okay," Tony said, happy to show off, and started taking the toaster apart.


	8. got your back

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request._

* * *

_got your back_

Pairing: None, brotherly Thor&Loki

Warnings: Vomit

* * *

_"Urrrrrph"_

The sounds from the other side of the door were not encouraging to say the least. Steve leaned against the wood, eyebrows drawn up in worry, and he turned back to Clint to shake his head.

"I don't think it's getting any better."

"How long has he been in there?"

"About two hours."

"We have to get rid of it," Steve said firmly, "Every carton."

"What will I eat for breakfast?" Clint groaned even as he and Natasha headed back to the kitchen.

"Cereal," Bruce suggested at the archer's retreating back as he came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth and a stethoscope, "Or eggs. Eggs are good."

_"Urrp"_

"Someone shut the door!" Stark yelled from three rooms down, "Shut it!"

"Aren't you even going to come see how he's doing?" Steve demanded.

"The great God of Thunder done in by tapioca," Bruce murmured, "Who'd have thought."

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Steve asked. The other Avenger shook his head. "We should give him some space," Bruce said, "Since he doesn't seem up to be getting any fresh air."

_"Hurrrp"_

Steve winced in sympathy as the sound of Thor emptying his stomach continued. He gave the Asgardian his word that he'd be back to check in on him in a few minutes and retreated with Bruce to the kitchen.

So with the others in the kitchen and Tony holed up three rooms down, no one but Thor heard the telltale whisper of magic as Loki flickered into solidity behind his brother's folded figure. And Loki was glad of it.

"Look at you," he sneered, "Thor, great son of Odin, felled by some Midgardian pudding. How very mighty indeed."

_"Hggggurp"_

Loki's nose wrinkled in offense and he banished the fresh wave of vomit with a wave of his hand.

"Really, Thor," the lean god snapped, "Any mortal could fell you in this moment. You are alone. You need not play the injured party for the pity of your comrades."

When no response was forthcoming from his taunts, Loki bent at the knee and wrenched his brother's face away from the toilet bowl. He was not expecting the twisted agony of Thor's face, made pale by the exertion of repeatedly emptying himself. Loki realized abruptly that there was no play for sympathy. A wave of his hand and Loki sealed the door shut to the outside world. He folded his legs up under him to be at his brother's height and, with a carefully blank expression, tucked Thor back against the porcelain.

"You are truly distressed by this," he murmured after a minute.

Thor's groan was short but miserable.

Loki put a hand to his brother's back and held it there.

"I am not versed in the arts of healing," Loki muttered as he brought the palm in circles on Thor's back, "But it bothers me to see you in distress not of my own making."

The golden god snorted but did not bid Loki cease his ministrations.

They sat in silence following that. Loki moved his hands steadily, keeping his touch light and mostly warmth and little pressure, and kept to slow circular motions. When Thor could sit with his face away from the toilet Loki slowed.

"Please don't," Thor rasped, his throat struggling to produce the words, "stop yet."

"Alright."

Eventually Thor could sit up away from the toilet. Loki had long since vanished all traces of vomit and spit and tapioca from the bathroom. His brother's face was still pale but his breathing was much less labored. "How fare you?"

"Much better," Thor admitted, "Better, I think, than I should have fared if my little brother had not thought to come poke fun at me."

"I am always going to poke fun at you," Loki contended as he drew circles on Thor's back, "Tis a task made simple by your breathtaking stupidity."

"Mmmm."

Loki was busy tracing the shape of a rune into the thick muscle of his brother's back when Thor lurched for the toilet. The younger god frowned as his brother heaved, shudders wracking his shoulders. He vanished it as soon as Thor was done producing the vile pudding and pulled Thor to the wall. He arranged the unprotesting figure until Thor was shoved up with his back to the wall and Loki beside him. They were very nearly the same height but Loki was exactly the right height to lean his head in the space between Thor and his shoulder and provide a place for his brother to lay his own head. He stared at the wall and imagined he couldn't feel Thor's lop-sided grin.

"Stop smirking or I'll put your head in that bowl," Loki threatened.

"You take such good care of your big brother," Thor teased, turning his cheek to nuzzle the crown of Loki's hair.

"This instant, Thor."

"Mmmm."

They stayed that way for a long while not saying anything. Once or twice Thor made as if to retch but Loki put a hand to his stomach each time and willed his brother better. Whether it was some unconscious level of magic or if it was his imagination, Thor sat back each time, content to have Loki's hand at his stomach.

"I remember a time when you were sick like this," Loki recalled, having sat silent as long as he could, "You ate some rare delicacy from Alfheim in outrageous quantities. You retched for a week."

"In green and violet," Thor said fondly, "and bright blue, all over Mother's best gown."

"You were in agony akin to now."

"Aye. And then, as now, I was not alone."

Loki squirmed. Thor turned his cheek to press a kiss to his younger brother's head.

"I am very lucky to have someone brave enough to rub my back when I'm spitting up great globs of violet."

"You've been retching for hours and you put your lips in my hair?" Loki wailed.

Thor's laughter boomed in the tiny bathroom.


	9. Spooning

**MiniFill Series**

_A series of minifills for the Avengerkinkmeme. Drabbles running from 500 - 2k words. Warnings for each chapter will be different, as they are NOT RELATED and every chapter was a different request._

* * *

_Spooning_

Pairing: _Bruce/Clint_

Warnings: Fluffy

* * *

Clint was staring at the thermostat. He had been staring at the mercury for the last twenty minutes and had been increasingly concerned that he wasn't imagining things. Tony was out on business and Bruce was in the workshop. He was in a sweater and thick denim when Clint walked in shivering.

"Heating's busted."

The other man spared him a single look of unconcerned surprise, then nodded.

"There are sweaters in Tony's room. Passcode's 002759."

Clint decided he was actually imaging that he could see his breath but the shivers were real enough. But he didn't like the idea of breaking into Tony's room just to steal a sweater and so he plucked the doctor by his wrist away from whatever project he was so absorbed in and dragged him all the way up on beyond the lab levels and workout floor to the living quarters. He typed in the access code, diligently ignoring all of Bruce's patient attempts to reason him out of whatever they were about to trespass upon Tony's room. The door slid open with a hiss and clicked shut behind them once Clint dragged the doctor across the threshold.

"I really shouldn't leave that project unattended for too long," Bruce said as he was tugged toward the bed.

"How long is too long?" Clint asked, unlacing his boots with his free hand.

Bruce considered and almost shrugged, "Forty minutes, give or take five-"

"Forty-five minutes," Clint muttered, and tugged as he kicked behind Bruce's ankles, and they tumbled backwards together onto the bed.

Bruce let the surprise take him and groaned a little as Clint snickered. Tony's bed was soft and plush, though, and that it wasn't either of theirs meant that Clint's conquest wasn't sexual. Bruce's instinct was only confirmed when the archer took the covers and tossed them over the two of them and tucked himself into Bruce's arms.

They shuffled a minute or two, moving their arms and shifting their legs and adjusting the blanket before they found a position both of them were really comfortable in. Eventually Clint's breathing evened and his shivers stopped. Bruce hardly noticed with the familiar lazy drag of the archer's talented fingers over the curls in his hair doing terrible terrible things to his ability to concentrate.

"You could've gotten a jacket," Bruce chided an hour later.

"You could've not totaled the heater."

There was a brief stretch of silence.

"Busted," Clint continued, and Bruce pretended he couldn't feel the archer's grin grow against his neck, "Tony's gonna throw a hissy fit when he gets back and see what you left of it."

"There's bits left?"

"You missed some of the wiring where it connects to the wall."

"...damn." His arms curled around Clint's chest and the archer sighed as all his air was encouraged gently out of him.

"If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask, Bruce," Clint murmured, curled into the short man's arms, forehead between the plush mattress and Bruce's neck. The man's throat hummed with his brief laugh.

"I'll ask next time," Bruce promised. He tugged Clint closer and failed completely to look even an ounce repentant.


End file.
